Going back

They say you can never go back. Change happens to all the best loved places of our life. The house is repainted. The furniture is replaced and rearranged. The open fields of childhood are plowed and sowed with corn. Pleasant valleys become real estate developments. The view from the front porch becomes cluttered with telephone lines and new houses. And even when you “go home” it is never the same.

But you can go back. I sat in my open door this morning and smelled the fresh scent of sage and juniper mixed with a very slight moisture and when I closed my eyes I was opening the door of our little pink house in Rock Springs. The fragrance came in and mixed with that of coffee cooking on the stove. The coolness of the breeze on my face vied with the warmth of the morning fire at my back. The barking of the dog and the maa-ing of the goats in the distant silence was countered by the laughter of a little boy bouncing on his father’s stomach in bed.

I sat there a few minutes, remembering. Yes, you can go back